_Pope Alexander the Sixth._
LXXXIV. The memory of our countryman, Pope Alexander the Sixth, is so
blackened in story, that the characters in which his history is written,
seem to be all contaminated with blots; nor do I undertake, or think any
one else, with a probability of success can undertake, his justification
or defence, or pretend to clear him of all the crimes which are imputed
to him; but may we not suppose, that the hatred of his enemies augmented
the catalogue of his faults? It is certain, that Alexander was much
abhorred by the Romans, partly from his own misconduct, and partly from
that of his son, the outrageous Cæsar Borgia. I firmly believe, that the
vulgar rumour never charged any prince with more faults that he was not
guilty of, than Alexander; and if the writers of the time were infected
with the prejudices of the populace, they would not be scrupulous of
inserting the rumours of the vulgar in their histories.
LXXXV. Let us pass from this reflection (which is equally applicable to
all other princes who are abhorred by their subjects, as to Alexander) to
a particular fact, which, without doubt, is one of the most conspicuous
and notorious that is imputed to this prince. It is asserted, that he
conspired with his son Cæsar Borgia, to take away by poison, the lives
of several cardinals, one of whom was Adrian Cortus, a man who was
entirely devoted to him; and that their motive for perpetrating this
wickedness, was that of seizing on the riches of the devoted persons:
that for the purpose of executing the scheme, the intended victims were
invited to a grand entertainment, which was to be given by the pope, at
the country-house of Cardinal Cornetus; where a portion of cool poisoned
wine was provided, to be served to the persons devoted to death; but
by mistake, it was given to the pope and his son; that the son, by the
help of a robust constitution, and speedy remedies prescribed by the
physicians, escaped; but the pope, who being advanced in years, was
unable to resist the shock, resigned his life to the power of the poison.
LXXXVI. This cruel attempt, and the fatal result of it, may I believe,
be disputed upon grounds of great probability. Some, who affirm the
fact, doubt the pope’s having had any hand in the business, and lay
the crime wholly at the door of Cæsar Borgia. Alexander Natalis, who
is one of the most severe writers against that pontif, confesses, that
there are some who maintain the whole relation to have been fabulous;
and adds, that there are manuscript diaries existing, which testify he
died upon the seventh day of a continual fever; which is a regular and
ordinary disease: and let the truth prevail, why are we not to believe
these diaries, which are written originally at the same place, and
at the same time when the event happened? What writings can be more
deserving of credit than these Diaries? or who, living in Rome at the
time of Alexander’s death, would dare to assert in writing, that he died
a natural death at the end of seven days after being attacked with a
continual fever, if the fact had been otherwise, and especially if all
Rome had it in their power to convict him of the falshood? It may be
alledged, that the poison was of such a nature as might excite a fever
to occasion his death: but experience shews us, that the operation
of poisons, is always, or nearly always, attended with uncommon and
extraordinary symptoms. Besides, the enemies of Alexander, who were
very numerous, had a great propensity to invent and believe every thing
that could tend to blacken him, or blast his fame. John Francisco Pico,
in the life of a certain religious which he wrote, who was a friend of
his, tells us, that there were two opinions which prevailed concerning
the death of Alexander: one was, that he died by poison; and the other,
that he was suffocated by the Devil, with whom he had made a compact
to deliver his soul to him at a stated time, provided he would make
him pope. May we not infer from this, that there is no extravagance or
chimera which envy is not capable of inventing, in order to render a
man infamous: and it is worthy of remark, that those two opinions, with
regard to the certainty of them, destroy one another: I mean, that if you
could suppose the Devil suffocated him, it would overturn the certainty
of his having lost his life by poison. But how, when there is a failure
in establishing the certainty of the fact, can you believe a man to have
been guilty of so atrocious an action? Is it not doing a serious injury
to your neighbour, to suppose him guilty of a heavy crime, upon the
strength of uncertain assertions? what ought we to conclude in such a
case, but that the crime was invented by the hatred of some, and that it
gained credit from a principle of hatred in others?